Full Circle
by Iaragon
Summary: It has been 3,000 years since the time of Pharaoh Atemu. Yugi Mutou is surprised to find a body dumped on his doorstep, wearing Egyptian garb. But Atemu thinks he recognizes this girl - and so does Bakura. Atemu/OC/Bakura.
1. Book One: The Disease

_A/N: Look at me! Adding and updating stories left and right. What's wrong with me, you may wonder? Especially with a paper due tomorrow and two midterms next Wednesday. I think I'm developing Cronic Schoolwork Procrastination. _

_This story involves a THREESOME, that is, a woman with TWO MEN, which means there will be some male/male action, though not a whole lot. Atemu and Bakura kind-of-sort-of hate eachother, after all. _

_I don't own YuGiOh!_

* * *

**Book One: The Disease**

_Egypt: 3,000 Years Ago_

It had started to sink in on her fortieth birthday, celebrated under good Pharaoh Tutankhamen's reign. There had been gifts and dancers, just like usual, and many common people one by one wishing her longevity and health like they always did. She had smiled and greeted them as per usual, until one man, an old grandfather, made a comment about her appearance.

"Good Nuru, why, you haven't aged a day since I first laid eyes on you not fifteen years ago."

It had been meant as a compliment, and she had taken it as one, brushing off the strange drop in her stomach at his words. It wasn't until much later, sitting with the Pharaoh and his priests as usual and left to her own thoughts, had she mulled over that comment again in her mind. Nuru had traced paths down her face, and studied her reflection in one of her gold arm bands, looking, looking. But she could find no wrinkles. No sagging skin.

She looked just the same as she had fifteen years ago.

When poor Tutankhamen passed to the next life and Pharaoh Horemheb became ruler and she was still there, sitting where she had for over thirty-five years at the feet of the Pharaoh, people became curious. At first. Why wasn't good Nuru aging? Is it, perhaps, a gift from the gods? Or is it some sort of punishment for not following her first Pharaoh into the afterlife?

Horemheb had reigned for thirty years when that curiousity turned into something more malicious.

Nuru could see the suspicion in Horemheb's eyes as she sat at his feet, day after day. She had watched him grow from a young boy into a hardened man and had loved him like a son all the while. But even she was worried. Even she had no answers for him when he remarked on her longevity.

"How long has it been, Nuru, since you were born unto this world?"

Nuru felt only helpless, and a little scared. It was a fearsome number in her mind. "It has been s-seventy years, my pharaoh."

Horemheb would narrow his eyes but say nothing in return. He didn't understand it any better than she, but she had taken a large part in raising him, and perhaps that was why he never pushed the subject. Yet the common people were fearful of her. They would not approach the king with her at his feet. The priests were wary of her in a dangerous way, always purposely leaving her out of conversation and overriding her presence even when she wanted to speak. Horemheb quietly allowed her presence in any case, despite the cold words Nuru knew his vizier, Ramses, was whispering to him about her.

But then he died, some ten years later. And Ramses came to power. His reign was short-lived, but barely had he settled on the thrown when she was thrown out of the palace with accusations of sorcery and feeding off the life forces of the Pharaohs to remain unchanging. Nuru had been forced to seek refuge in the Temple of Amun-Ra, which despite being large and filled with priests during the day, at night it was cold, and deathly quiet. She could only eat the food given directly to her by kinder priests and pitying commoners, as it was much like a sin to steal the offerings many brought to the temple. That was only a small part of the populace, however – like Ramses, nearly all the Egyptians believed her to be a sorceress, feeding off the lives of others to fuel her own. Many times people came to temple to punish her, with rocks or whips. Some had brought her poisoned food, but because she only nibbled on the offerings in order to make them last, she endured violent sickness but not death.

When one man had tried to force himself on her, mumbling about goddesses and eternal life Nuru knew she had to disappear from the people's eye. Nuru hid deeper in the temple, in a room hardly large enough to sit in where hardly any people went. It was dark and cool, and the hieroglyphs on the walls told her of old, old records even before she had been born. No one found her hiding place, and Nuru contented herself with listening to the hum of people going in and out of the temple during the day.

She slept for what felt like days on end, but didn't really feel tired. She woke only once in a while, feeling as though she was supposed to eat, or drink, but she didn't and to her growing sadness and confusion never felt the worse for it. But after a long while, the temple became emptier than usual. Even during the day. She couldn't hear as well the chatter of priests or the high pitch of a child's voice. After long hours of contemplation curiousity drove her from her hiding place – and though it was broad daylight, there was no one in the open concept temple. There was no one outside, either.

No matter which direction she looked – towards the Nile, where fisherman were supposed to be labouring, or towards beautiful Memphis, which seemed now no better than a ghostly palace and downtrodden homes, there was no one.

It alarmed her, and terrified her.

Her immediate concern became the Shadow Monsters, their likeness carved into great tablets which lined the innermost walls of the palace. She kept a terse, nervous watch over them and wished, oh she wished she knew where the Millennium Items had gone. Where the _people _had gone. How could they leave the Monsters here, unguarded? Any man might come up to the palace and take control of them!

Often during the days and night she would step outside of the palace and look towards the city, half-expecting it to be bustling and lively once again. There was never a change.

Nuru painted many hieroglyphs. She wrote songs and cleaned every room in the palace, with special care to the Pharaoh's chambers. She tried to look happy, and ignore the seriousness of the situation, though who she put on such a face for she didn't know. But worst of all she dreamed things, memories she didn't want to recall of a past long before this strange long life. She prayed to the Gods, twice a day at the very least, and wished desperately to die. Long nights were spent in the Pharaoh's chambers, rearranged according to her memories during Atemu's life. She soft tiger and leopard furs were one of her few comforts, and even though his presence from the room was long gone, she could still imagine him there. And sometimes, when she was particularly depressed, the other would come as well.

Yet they were both long dead. How she so wished to join them.

And then, one day, while she was praying in the Temple of Amun-Ra, she heard someone else walk up the steps behind her.

Nuru whipped about, hardly daring to believe her ears; and yet, there he was – a man, clad in Egyptian linen but obviously not of Egyptian descent. He froze on the last step when their eyes met. She leapt up quickly, her heart thrumming hastily in her chest as hope, hope she hadn't felt in _so long _coiled through her chest.

The man looked incredibly shocked by finding another person in the temple. She rushed forwards quickly and grasped his hands, bowing and pressing them to her brow. "Oh, thank you, Ra has finally answered my prayers!"

"Girl, who are you?" the man asked in clear confusion. His Egyptian sounded rough to her ears, but she listened to it eagerly. Another being was here, another voice! It could only mean one thing – "A young woman should not be alone, traipsing through this dead city."

"But you've come back!" Nuru said joyously, eyes wet. She kissed his hands gratefully and looked up at him, beaming. "I've been so lonely, ever since Pharaoh Ramses put me in this place, but now _finally_-,"

"Ramses?" the man pulled back suddenly, eyeing her with wariness. "Have you an illness, girl? It has been nigh a hundred years since the dynasty of Pharaoh Ramses I."

Nuru froze. Something which had been tightening in her chest clenched, and shattered. Her throat felt dry. She stepped back from the man slowly, looking away from his face and to the marble floors. They were worn and dull.

"A hundred years," she repeated in a whisper. "A hundred years."

As if he was just next to her, Nuru heard Horemheb's voice again in her mind.

"_How long has it been, Nuru, since you were born unto this world?"_

Nuru's arms curled about her stomach, and she shuddered. The man was calling to her, concerned, but she could not hear.

_One hundred and seventy years._


	2. Book One: Across the Years

**Book One: Across the Years**

_Egypt: Roughly 3,000 Years Later_

A silver-haired man had come into the palace.

Nuru kept to the shadows, watching the young man's slow progression through the sandy ruins of what had once been her home. He was certainly not the first foreigner to come to the palace, but what she found very odd about this particular man was that he was alone. She was used to them coming in large groups, digging around in the sand, stealing away the broken pottery – what on earth did they want with the broken pottery? – and staring at the reliefs on the walls for hours on end, as though they didn't know what to make of Egyptian hieroglyphs. They were all very strange to her, and very frightening as well; she had seen them, more than once, dig up the tombs of the common peoples and drag out the mummified bones and offerings. They were grave robbers, her gut told her. The term stirred something in her vast memory, but that 'something' fluttered away from her consciousness before she could grasp it.

This man, Nuru reminded herself absently, was strange, even among the foreigners. Not only was he alone, but he was ignoring the reliefs and the pottery that the others usually occupied themselves with. Instead, he was slowly making his way into the depths of the palace, his silver hair catching in the light of his own torch. He was getting closer to the Doors.

Nuru trailed after him, though she kept a safe distance. She was very protective of the Doors, though she did not remember what was behind them anymore. She never felt inclined to open them, even after all this time. But she always felt drawn to the Doors and the chamber they protected. She felt nervous and touchy whenever the foreigners got too close to them – but she knew her worries were only superficial. None of the foreigners who had come to her home were ever able to see those doors.

Nuru wet her lips and crawled slowly along the corridor behind the man. He was slow. What was he looking for, she wondered?

He stopped suddenly. Nuru froze. She lowered her body closer to the ground, knees pressing gently into the sand. Her hair brushed the floor as she ducked her head, watching silently as the man looked around him. She was unfamiliar with human body language, but she had hunted game before, and the man's posture showed similar hesitation to a prey who knew it was being pursued. He showed signs of fear.

After a long moment, the man turned and continued his path. The closer they got to the Doors, the more anxious Nuru felt. But surely, she thought to herself as he turned a corner, surely he, like every other that had come to the palace, would be unable to see –

The man came face to face with the Doors. He froze, and released a loud shout. Nuru's eyes widened – there was no mistaking it. That man was staring straight at the doorway which had remained hidden from modern eyes for all this time. The man spoke frantically in an unknown language, sounding scared and awed all at once. Nuru straightened, rising to her feet uncertainly. This had never happened before. What did it mean?

The silver-haired man, still speaking feverishly, ran up to the doors as though he meant to pull them open. In a sudden panic, Nuru's body acted on its own; she threw herself in front of the doors with a shout, shoving the man's hands away before she jerked away, unused to human conflict. She pressed her back into the door and looked up, waiting for the next move – only to freeze on making eye contact with the first living person she'd revealed herself to in so, so long.

He looked as surprised – as scared – as she did. He appeared to have only one eye, the other side of his face curtained by that strange, almost luminescent silver hair. He'd reared back slightly upon seeing her, but now studied her with a sort of fearful confusion.

Nuru couldn't get over her shock. He could _see _the Doors – how? The man murmured something, but Nuru didn't pay attention to the strange language she couldn't understand. She held her ground, standing in front of the Doors with her chin up and ready to take any pain he dealt her.

But he didn't move. He spoke again, a little louder this time. Nuru could only stare back at him, uncomprehending. Only one eye, she thought to herself. But there – was that a flash of gold?

She felt him freeze as she reached forward, gingerly, and touched the silver curtain of hair hiding half of the man's face. She felt a pull to him, much like she felt a pull to the doors at her back.

The man jerked away, looking, if possible, even more startled than before. But something compelled her to grab his chin to keep him in place, even as she shuddered at the human contact. Her sandy hands reached up and pushed the hair from his face.

Her hands jumped away from his face as if burned. The stone entranceway at her back seemed to hum with suppressed power, and something clicked into place in Nuru's scattered mind. Her hands released him, her feet moved her to the side, and her body folded into a long-forgotten bow next to the entrance to the Chamber of the Shadow Monsters.

When Nuru looked up from her daze, the man was gone, and the Chamber doors open. She could hear his voice deep inside and she backed away, suddenly scared. She recognised that Eye. She recognised these doors, and she remembered the creatures held inside, and she knew their king, their master, and – and –

The girl stumbled away from the palace that was suddenly too constricting, and managed to find her way outside even though her view was curiously blurred. Eventually the made it outside, where she crouched against some ruins and shut her eyes tightly, only then aware of how they were leaking tears. She pressed her palms to her face and prayed that when she opened them again, the strange man would be gone, the Eye would be gone, and the Chamber of the Ancient Monsters would be sealed once again.

Nuru groaned softly, and willed herself to forget.

* * *

_Domino City: Present Day_

Bakura knew he was not well.

He had _never _been well, not since his soul had bonded with the Millennium Ring and he had awoken in Ryou's hands. It had become even worse upon seeing that Pharaoh again, blissfully dead but still _here, _Ra be damned, still a spiritual entity on this plane of the living. And what's worse, he had no memory of his past life! _The very audacity, _Bakura often brooded to himself. _It's insulting. __Insulting._

Bakura was not well. At times, he would be reading the newspaper for nothing better to do, not quite ready to give control back to his hikari, and see something odd in the article – like a birthday greeting for some five year-old. And strange thoughts would pop into his head – _'Abasi, he was about to turn five, just before the village–'_ And then he would stop himself abruptly, and allow a confused Ryou to have control.

There were other times, when Bakura was walking down the street with no destination in mind, boredly eyeing the shops he passes. And suddenly, he'd stop – always in front of the same shop, of beautiful linens and fabrics, always with at least two female mannequins elegantly dressed in the window. Almost without thinking, Bakura would eye the clothing critically. Recently there had been a dark red, woven fabric on display. Just as abruptly, as he'd stopped, he'd think _'she would like that one,_' before realizing what he was doing and finding the nearest washroom where he can splash his face with cold water and wait for the shivering to stop, curses dropping feverishly from his lips.

Then there are times he'd lay in bed to sleep, staring up at the ceiling, and begin speaking Egyptian to no one. He'll begin to hold a _conversation _with no one.

"What's wrong, Yami?" Ryou will often ask, after Bakura had finally noticed what he's been doing and shaken it off, like a bad dream. "This – isn't normal, for you to talk to nobody the way you are."

Bakura often told him not to meddle. He's _fine. _You don't stay imprisoned for three thousand years in a Sennen Item without some lasting effects.

_(But it's not really no one. It's a dead woman.)_

These were the instances that assured Bakura something was wrong with him, something had, perhaps, always been wrong with him. At least since his death.

As with all things, Bakura faced his problems with violent, resentful anger. He _hated _thesestupid memories, _useless _memories. They made him angry, and vengeful, and he _hated everything_, he _hated _being stuck here, in this damned world when there were people, there was a person waiting for him in the afterlife, a young, small, sad, sad girl –

But he hated Atemu the most. Atemu, who remembered nothing of Memphis, or Shadow Egypt, or _her_.

_The very audacity, _Bakura would snarl, blind with fury. _It's insulting. __Insulting._

The tremor in Bakura's hands infuriated him. The obliviousness of the Pharaoh maddened him.

These were times he envied Atemu the most – _he _was free of her tears for all eternity.

_

* * *

Egypt: 20 Years Ago_

Two thousand five hundred and seventy-four. Two thousand five hundred and seventy-five. Two thousand five hundred and seventy six…

Seated in one of the few rooms of the palace that hadn't been blown up by foreigners or ripped apart by foreigners or vandalized by foreigners or worn down from old age, Nuru smoothed her fingers over the hieroglyphics one by one, counting each symbol on the widest wall's surface. Of course, she already knew there were three thousand nine hundred and eighty two characters on this particular wall, but who knew? She could have miscounted, the past two hundred and eighty-three times she'd done this already, at various intervals in the past. If she read them slowly enough it could take her five hours to count them all, and, well, it wasn't as though she was running short on time or anything.

Nuru broke off in her counting and stood up suddenly, feeling restless. The harsh desert sun beat down on her skin as Nuru padded carefully through the barren halls of the palace. There were very few places where walls hadn't been knocks down or eroded, leaving wide, gaping holes and no ceilings. Sometimes, all that remained was the floor, and a few marble pillars.

There was one room still intact, though.

"Hm. Hm. Hm. Oh!" Nuru noticed movement in the corner of her eye and jumped at the distraction, whirling about and stumbling towards a small, sand-coloured cricket scuttling across an overturned statue. Quickly, as though the opportunity might slip through her fingers if she didn't get there long enough, Nuru rushed to the weathered rock and crouched down over the insect. "Hello. Hello. I've seen you before."

The cricket chirped. Nuru reared back for a moment, visibly surprised, before she crouched down even closer to the small animal. She whistled the same noise to the best of her ability, fascinated. The cricket hopped once, twice, and the girl crawled slowly after it. Again, it chirped.

Nuru whistled again in response. She licked her lips and smiled. "You're familiar to me. Hmm. I've seen you before. What's your name?" Nuru frowned, and went still as she pondered. She knew the name of this creature. It seemed odd that she couldn't remember. Ages ago, she had known its' name. Right? Maybe. She couldn't recall.

Nuru frowned deeper, and set her chin against her folded arms. She stared down at the tiny creature with glazed brown eyes, and when it hopped away, she stared at the place it had been, seemingly not noticing its departure. In fact, to an outsider's eyes it would appear that she had been somehow petrified; she stayed that way for a long twenty minutes, hardly breathing.

Abruptly, Nuru smiled, as though she hadn't been sitting in the same position for nearly a half an hour. Even though the insect was gone, she stared at the place it had been triumphantly. "Cricket. You're a cricket. Cricket. Cricket." Standing, Nuru mumbled the word under her breath as though to remember as she walked to the far corner of the empty room and picked up a charred stick from the fire she'd made last night. Then she made a rough drawing of the bug on the dusty floor. "Cri-ket," she said, smiling as she wrote the creature's name beneath its likeness. Then, absently, Nuru wrote more characters onto the floor. When she was done, she blinked at the writing, as though just noticing it there.

"Nu-ru," she read. "Nuru…" the girl pondered a moment. The smile flashed across her face a second time. "I'm Nuru," she said, as though just remembering.

Humming lightly, Nuru stood and dusted herself off before turning and dancing lightly to another room, to do something else. _Something._

_

* * *

Egypt: 12 Years Ago_

There were clothes sitting just in the temple, at the topmost step, next to a bushel of grapes and a large chunk of cheese.

Nuru squat down some ten feet away from the neat arrangement of provisions. After a long moment, she wet her lips and clucked softly, once. Of course she was hungry. Only when she slept for days and days and days did the gnawing – but apparently harmless – hunger ease.

It was odd, these strange offerings that would show up night after night. It had been going on for a while, but for how long exactly Nuru couldn't be sure – her perception of time had long dissipated. But, who left the food here? She hadn't seen anyone in person for quite a while, not since the pale ones came with their strange languages and obvious lack of respect for what had been her home and prison all these years. She had hid from them, and yet now, after so long, someone knew she was here. And for some reason they thought she had no means of sustenance for herself.

Nuru crept closer to the provisions, one step at a time. She plucked a grape from the stem and rolled it between her dark fingers, gently puncturing the skin with a fingernail. The juice ran over her dusty skin and slid over the aged gold forever clasped along her forearms. The "young" woman set the grape between her teeth, and bit down slowly; gently, feeling the juices fill her mouth and pool over her tongue. Why did this person leave food for her? And…where did he or she come from?

Chewing slowly and swallowing, Nuru cautioned a glance at the clothing neatly folded next to the grapes. She lifted the linen gently, smoothing her hands across it. It was soft, pale – and, to her surprise, much like the Egyptian garb she was familiar with.

There was a soft 'thump' from behind her followed by a small cry. Nuru's eyes widened as she stood, forgetting the cloth still clutched in her fists as she turned. More foreigners? Quickly, she must run back to the palace –

The girl froze in place, staring at the scene before her eyes. A little boy sat haphazardly on the ground, tears welled in his large violet eyes. Though his hair was a striking gold he was not a foreigner, as she had previously assumed, but an Egyptian just like her. It looked as though he had tripped on the very last step and scraped his knee on the unforgiving stone. The tiny creature sniffled loudly, rubbing at his eyes. He must have felt her gaze because he looked up suddenly, still teary, but quieted with fear.

Slowly, Nuru crept down the stairs, lowering her body near the ground so as to seem less intimidating. A furrow formed in her brow as she neared the boy; it had been such a long time since she had seen a child. The closer she came, however, the wider the boy's scared eyes grew. She was only one step away from him when he succumbed to scared tears again, and at the long-forgotten sound, a switch was flipped in Nuru's head.

Dropping the linens, she scooped him up with one arm and rested him against her shoulder, standing in the process. The boy was small enough to fit along the crook of her arm.

"Now now now. You're alright. I'll fix you, don't worry." She climbed the stairs again and sat him on the topmost step, surveying the injured knee thoughtfully. "Hmm. Hmm." After a moment she retrieved the new linens and ripped a small strip from them, wrapping it firmly about the boy's knee. He had all but stopped crying now, and was watching her move about with innocent curiousity. When she noticed, she reached across him and pulled a stem of grapes from the bushel, before offering them to him. After a moment of hesitance, he took them.

As he munched away slowly, she took the time to brush the sand off him whilst humming tunelessly. She smeared the tears from his eyes and finally, leaned down to plant a kiss on the bandaged knee. "All better," she chimed gently, and pat his head once. He nibbled gently on a grape, still watching her with those big eyes. His small hands barely fit about one of the small fruits.

Nuru turned at the sound of a horse swiftly approaching, sinking lower to the floor in uncertainty. The boy, however, caught sight of the approaching figure and a grin blossomed over his face as the rider came to a stop at the temple steps.

"Malik!" the man shouted fiercely.

"Papa!" the boy giggled, and began his meticulous descent. Keeping her eyes on the horseman, Nuru quickly slipped a bit further into the temple, ducking fearfully behind the remains of a pillar. She held still and shut her eyes tightly, listening to the quiet murmurs of the man to his son. There was a long, tense pause, and then a sharp whistle –

The horse carried its passengers away from the temple, from Memphis, and from her. For a long time afterwards, Nuru stood stock still behind the pillar, eyes closed and body tensed. For the first time in a while, she felt…old.


	3. Book One: Reanimation

**Book One: Reanimation**

_Domino City: Present Day_

It was night-time in the Motou household, and Yugi was going through the regular motions of slipping into his pyjamas, brushing his teeth, and polishing his Millennium Puzzle in the florescent light of the ensuite bathroom. He hummed quietly as he took a cloth to the 3,000 year-old treasure, still gleaming handsomely despite its age. It had been a good day at school, and nothing out of the norm had happened, which was always a plus for little Yugi. Gramps had closed the shop early today to prepare a particularly large meal in celebration of Yugi's recent grades in Mathematics, and with the day nearly over, a peaceful smile lit the duelist's face as he walked back to his bedroom.

The first thing he noticed was Yami sitting next to the windowsill on a chair he had dragged over, cold eyes riveted on something that Yugi would never see. Yugi was well aware that Yami had a good heart in him, and that if he was in danger, he could count on Yami's friendship to get him out. But that didn't soften the sheer solemnity in his posture – a king's posture.

"Yami," Yugi called, and when the nameless Pharaoh's eyes slid to him they were a touch less distant than they had been toward the world outside. Yugi smiled at him, and lifted his hand in a small wave. "Are you alright?"

The side of Yami's mouth tipped upwards, though his eyes were the same as always. His tone with Yugi was indulgent. "Yes. I was just thinking."

"About what?" Curiousity got the better of Yugi. Yami looked out the window again.

"I thought I was remembering something. About Egypt."

"Egypt? Really?" Yugi's soft eyes widened with interest, and hope. Could it be possible that Yami was regaining his memory? "What do you remember, Yami? Is it your name?"

"No," the spirit replied, his voice rapidly growing more absent. "No." For a brief moment, Yami stopped looking like a king. His head tipped against the glass of the window, and his expression lost some of that sharpness. "It wasn't a memory, not really. Just…a feeling."

Yugi stepped closer to his double. The Millennium Puzzle felt heavy in his hands, but warm. "What kind of feeling, Yami?"

Yami opened his mouth to respond, but closed it again. He shook his head a bit and stood from the chair, his expression focused as he brought his attention back to Yugi. "Never mind, Yugi. It's nothing of consequence. Are you going to bed?"

"Hm? Oh! Yes." Yugi let the subject slide with an easy smile. "Goodnight, Yami!"

Yami smiled slightly back at him as he reached over and gently lifted the Millennium Puzzle from his host's grasp. "Goodnight, Yugi."

Yami watched patiently as Yugi ambled over to his bed and lied down, with a wide yawn pulling the covers up to his chin and rolling away from Yami's side of the room, so that his back faced the nameless Pharaoh. Yami's softened expression lingered for a moment on the boy before he stared down at the Sennen Item in his translucent hands. Unlike Yugi, who would describe it as warm, to Yami it was always cold and lifeless. People of this time valued gold, of this he was aware, but to him it was only a cold metal, unforgiving and out of place.

Out of place?

When he saw gold, he saw the sun, the sand, the jewels, the fire, the heat, the bronze skin of his Egyptian brethren. Egypt was a world of light and liveliness. It was where this Puzzle had been created. It was a piece of history, lost, stuck in this foreign land. Like Yami, the puzzle was out of place in Japan.

Yami sighed deeply, and sat back down in his chair. He leant his shoulder against the windowsill, and smoothed his fingers over the four sides of the triangular prism cradled in his lap. Egypt. For the thousandth time, he tried to imagine the city of Memphis in his head – tried to collaborate the pictures of ruins Yugi often found for him with some sense of what it must have been like 3,000 years ago. He didn't come up with any memories of home, any familiar faces, and most certainly not with his own name. The only thing he had was a…feeling.

The bronze-skinned Pharaoh shut his eyes, and let his hands rest over the Millennium Puzzle in his lap. When he though of the Nile, and of the sands of Egypt, he felt a warmth begin in his throat and spill down to his chest cavity, where it spread its soothing fingers over his skin. A whisper of lukewarm air tickled his jaw and traced lazily across his chin. He felt so at peace he was almost drowsy, and as he breathed in, he could almost feel someone else, a ghost long-departed, breathe out in time with him.

Then Yugi shifted in bed and Yami's red eyes opened. He was left alone by the windowsill, cold glass against his cheek, foreign land under his feet, and a forgotten name on the tip of his tongue.

* * *

_Egypt:12 Years Ago_

Nuru wasn't expecting to see the boy again.

She was sleeping, for once in the open; just dozing lightly in the heat of the sun. There was a cat sitting on her stomach, the first one she had seen in a long while. Or maybe it was a short while. She didn't care to wonder. Nuru could hear the gentle swell of the Nile far away, the strange buzzing sound she had gotten used to associating with those strange ships that now inhabited the harbour.

It was another day of nothing, doing nothing, saying nothing, _being nothing. _

That was when the cat hopped off her stomach; at the disturbance, Nuru opened her eyes and watched it saunter away, trotting away to her left to a small dish of fish set on the ground.

Fish?

Nuru sat up, blinking, as she realised the fish were at the feet of a boy, a young boy, a _familiar _boy – waving brightly at her.

"Hello, Lady!"

What strange manner of Egyptian he spoke. She rubbed her eyes, and pulled at her ears, but the image of the boy running swiftly closer did not disappear. His golden hair shimmered warmly in the sun, and Nuru watched him approach with fascination. She was not used to observing other people. Within moments he was standing in front of her, smiling widely, his thick blonde locks swaying with the breeze.

Curious, Nuru reached out and poked him in the forehead.

"Hey!" the little one grumbled, blinking up at her with an irritated look as he rubbed the spot away. Nuru could only cock her head in surprise that he wasn't a mirage. He was speaking to her again quite animatedly, but Nuru could not grasp the words. Terrible Egyptian, indeed. She merely watched the boy wave his arms and bounce about in an attempt to convey his message to her. Finally, looking irritated and more than a little out of breath, he slapped his chest with one open palm.

"Malik," he said slowly, as though _she _were the child, not he, "I'm _Malik._"

Nuru did not respond. Malik slumped slightly, his large violet eyes staring down at her hunched position desolately. "You don't remember me?"

Nuru glanced down as the cat brushed up against her knee, licking its chops from its recent meal. Malik was instantly distracted as he glanced back at the plate of fish he'd brought with him, only to find it licked clean. "Hey! Stupid cat!" Malik kicked sand towards the feline, and watched with satisfaction as it scampered off in a fright. When he looked back at Nuru, she was still staring right at him, hardly moving.

"Papa said I shouldn't come near this place, 'cuz you're a ghost," the four-year old explained brightly. "But I like you. And you're not a ghost. You're not even see-through!"

Nuru stared on, wondering about the strange sounds coming from the boy's mouth. It wasn't even remotely understandable to her anymore. The sun caught the boy's gilded hair as he turned back to her with a bright grin. He thumped his chest. "I'm Malik. Malik!"

Nuru's brow creased for a moment. She reached out and thumped his chest with her own dark hand, making him fall backwards. "Malik!" she parroted, mimicking even his tone.

"_Hey,_" Malik groaned as he sat up, a heavy pout on his lips. Nuru leaned back on her haunches, once again unmoving. Malik cocked his head. "So what's your name?"

Nuru frowned in consternation. The boy was still making noise. Had she said it wrong? "Malik."

"No no no! That's _my _name! You can't have it!"

As the boy waved his hands around, possibly displeased about something as far as Nuru could tell, she watched in silence – feeling more alert, feeling more…_real _than she had for centuries.

This boy would one day be important. Something told her so.

* * *

_Domino City: Present Day_

If Yugi didn't know any better, he would have thought Jonouchi had been sentenced to life in prison for all the wailing his friend was doing.

"Really, Jonouchi," Anzu sniffed, looking exasperated. "It's just one project! I'm sure you and Kaiba can get along for _that _long."

"NO! It's IMPOSSIBLE!" Jonouchi looked up, indignant and dramatically in despair. "There's just no way that no-good jerk and I can sit through doin' a whole project together without somebody losin' an arm! Anzu, trade me partners!"

"We _can't_," Anzu reminded him, looking annoyed.

"I guess you'll just have to bear with it, Jonouchi," Honda said, looking entirely too amused with the entire situation.

Yugi chose that moment to step in and put a comforting hand on his blonde friend's shoulder. "It'll be alright, Jonouchi, Seto's not that bad really."

"_Not that bad?_" the teen huffed shook his head. "Well, what about you, Yugi? You've got Ryou for a partner. Are you worried Bakura might make an appearance?"

_I think he already has, _Yugi thought, glancing across the classroom where the usually bright and kind Ryou was instead leaning back in his chair, scowling at the front of the classroom. As if he felt Yugi's gaze, Bakura turned and narrowed eyes at the boy. Yugi stiffened on reflex, but steeled himself.

"Now class," Sensei began at the front of the room. "I want you to find your partners and discuss your history projects. Make plans to see each other outside of school because your time to work on this in class will be very limited."

Uh oh.

_Be careful, _his yami murmured as Yugi gulped and stood up, making his way over to Ryou's desk, where Bakura was now quite openly glaring at him. He managed a smile, despite the hostility being thrown at him. "Hi there, Bakura. Um, Ryou and I are supposed to be doing this project together, a-and, um-,"

Dark eyes flickered to his, causing him to choke on his words. "I don't care," Bakura cut in acidly.

Yugi blinked. "B-but, if Ryou and I don't do the project, we'll fail the class! It's important!"

"Your problems are of no consequence to me, boy," Bakura leaned forwards over his desk, Ryou's normally kind brown eyes almost black with malice. "Leave me."

Yugi planted both of his hands on Ryou's desk, looking a little desperate. "But – _Bakura _– ah!" He gasped as Bakura's hand suddenly shot out and grabbed the chain of the Millennium Item hanging from Yugi's neck; twisting the chain tightly so that it was wrapped lethally about Yugi's neck. The boy choked, eyes widening in alarm as the pressure against his throat blocked his airway.

Bakura's lips curled away from his mouth in a smirk. "Leave me alone, _boy._"

The words had barely left his mouth when both of the young boy's hands grabbed his own and forcibly ripped them from the chain; with more strength than a boy of his stature should have, he pinned the backs of Bakura's wrists to the edge of the desk and pressed down, hard.

Yami stared evenly at the evil spirit before him, lowering his head until his hard eyes met Bakura's. The Millennium Item around Yami's neck swung gently with the movement.

Bakura's eyes harboured more hatred than ever, but his smirk widened. "Pharaoh."

"Bakura." Yami's stare was unwavering. His voice was low, nearly lost in the chatter of other students in the classroom. In sharp contrast with the fearful boy who'd occupied his place moments before, Yami's very presence seemed to hum with power. A few students nearby unconsciously shuffled their chairs further away, and Bakura had to repress the instinct to lower his head. "You will watch your treatment of my hikari, Bakura."

Bakura peered at the king through white bangs. "Or what?" he goaded. Yami's expression didn't change, but the pressure of Bakura's wrists greatly increased; Bakura hissed softly, dropping his amused expression to glare.

"Ryou will come to Yugi's house tomorrow evening. That's final." With that, Yami released Bakura's wrists and turned away. By the time he reached his friends, he was cheerful Yugi Mutou once again.

Bakura's lips lifted in a silent snarl. One day, he was going to slice off that goddamn brat's head, and save himself from the Pharaoh's aggravating presence.

* * *

_Egypt: 3 Years Ago (Malik is 13)_

Things were changing with the girl from the dead city, and a fourteen year-old Malik was unaccountably pleased.

The young Egyptian pulled his comb through another lock of the Lady's jet black hair, barely even sliding the comb in before he hit yet another knot.

"Ow. Malik. Ow," the Lady whimpered, pulling her knees up to her chest and sniffling.

"You need this done, Lady," Malik soothed, though he knew she could understand very little Arabic. It was kind of like talking to a pet; they certainly couldn't understand you, but you held conversations with them nonetheless. He fought a smile when she whined again. "Who knows how long you've gone without taking proper care of yourself." True, some might call the task he'd taken upon himself annoying, but for the first time since knowing the Lady, she was allowing him to touch her person.

For as long as Malik could remember, the Lady was, again, much like a stray pet. She only spoke in the most Archaic and intelligible Egyptian he'd ever heard, and even trying to get her to say two words in her own language had been like pulling teeth. As a child, he visited her often, charmed by how much of an interest she seemed to take in him; she would follow him around the dead city, watching, mimicking. As he got older, Malik had tried to teach her things – like Arabic, like who he was, where he came from. But it was like talking to a stone. She did not like him to touch her, and sometimes, she wouldn't let him near her at all – she'd go and sleep in a "hiding spot" she thought he didn't know about. The Lady had been like an empty doll, suspended in time, unaffected by anything, neither progressing nor regressing. Preserved, like a fossil. She could not even comprehend him enough to give him her name.

"Ow," the Lady said again. She tilted her head and stared up at him with those large eyes of hers. "Malik."

Ra above, she was adorable. Like a puppy. Malik grinned at her. "Almost done."

Nuru hummed softly, knowing he was answering her but unable to comprehend his speech. Two months ago, all he would have gotten was a blank stare. Malik couldn't say what had spurred the change, but out of the blue, the Lady started to react to him. Her facial expressions were more human, more animated. She looked healthier, her appetite had zipped from almost nothing to eating the full meals he brought to her. Her curiousity was unlimited. It was if life had been breathed back into her.

Malik ran his fingers experimentally through her newly brushed hair, watching the thick jet black slide down her back and gleam in the sunlight. Her hair was growing, even. Moving in front of her, Malik leant down and ran his comb gently through her thick bangs. The Lady watched him with fascination. He smiled at her briefly, and she smiled back brightly, flashing a rare show of teeth. _Adorable. _

"There we are," Malik said finally, replacing the bone-carved cone in his satchel. "You don't look like a cavewoman anymore."

"Cavewoman," The Lady repeated in wobbly Arabic. She bit her lip and narrowed her dark eyes, concentrating hard. "Food."

Malik almost felt like a proud mother. "You want food?" he reached back into his satchel, and pulled out some bread. "Food?"

Excitement bloomed on the Lady's face; she bolted to her feet, momentarily dazing Malik with the speed of the action, before hopping on the spot in excitement, her hands held out to receive the snack. "Ah! Food! Malik! Food!"

Malik held the bread out, but when she made to take it, he pulled it out of her reach. He almost laughed at her dumbfounded expression. She met his eyes, looking as though she had been morally wronged. "Food…?"

"Say please, Lady," he instructed, enjoying his role as teacher.

Her brow creased in confusion.

"_Please,_" Malik repeated slowly.

The Lady frowned harder. "Pooleetz," she said slowly.

It was close enough, Malik supposed. He gave her the bread and watched her devour it as though she hadn't eaten in days. Staring down at her slight frame, he wondered where she put it all. As he looked at her, his eyes were naturally drawn to the web work of white lines, some risen and some not, dancing across her dark skin. He wondered about the story behind him.

Shaking himself form his thoughts, Malik lifted the last piece of bread from the Lady's hands. "Bread," he told her, gesturing at it.

The Lady fell silent, uncomprehending. Malik pointed at himself. "Malik." He pointed at the food. "Bread. Malik. Bread."

"Bread." The lady grabbed the piece form him, staring at it with utmost fascination. She looked at him, and mimicked his point in her direction. "Malik."

"Good," Malik praised, grinning at her, and preened at the large, pleased grin that slid onto the lady's face.

"Bread. Malik." She pointed at him happily again.

"Yes. Bread. Malik." Just to see what would happen, he pointed at her next. She froze mid-bounce, staring at his finger. She looked from her half-eaten snack to his face, and then down at herself, as though the answer would be written on her skin. Her mouth started to move silently, her brow creased. She looked frustrated.

Malik had made more than enough progress, he decided, however nice it would be to know her real name. "It's okay, Lady-,"

"Nuru!" The Egyptian woman jerked to life suddenly, bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet. Her eyes were wide, and her breath quick, and she looked happier than he had seen her yet. "Nuru! Nuru, Nuru, Malik, Nuru – bread – ah-," she stuffed the last piece of her snack in her mouth with an excited squeak, hopping up and down.

Malik watched her play about, his happy expression slipping slowly. "Nuru," he repeated to himself. He watched her hop around the temple ruins, repeating her name like a mantra. The blonde's brow creased as he thought back to his lessons of grave keeping with his father and brother, to the stories of the nameless pharaoh whose tomb his family protected.

He had heard that name before.


	4. Book One: Evolution

**Book One: Evolution**

_Domino City: Present Day_

When Ryou showed up at Kame Game Shop the next afternoon, he looked a little dispirited, not to mention apologetic.

"I'm sorry, Yugi," he mumbled as the two of them pulled out their textbooks in the quiet of Yugi's room. "Bakura is – well, he's -,"

"It's okay," Yugi was quick to forgive, and a little embarrassed himself – that Yami had stepped in for him yesterday in a situation he should have been able to handle. It wasn't like Bakura could seriously harm him at school, in plain view of a classroom full of witnesses. Not for the first time, Yugi wished he was braver. Like Yami. Smiling absently at his own unlikely dreams, he was quick to reassure Ryou. "Don't blame yourself. Bakura's a personality all his own, that's for sure, but you aren't to blame for that, not really."

Ryou smiled uncertainly at him. He was tired, that wasn't hard to tell. The Millennium Ring hung gleaming from his neck, glowing handsomely against Ryou's cream sweater. Yugi shook his head, and tried to make the worn British exchange student feel more comfortable. "So, have you any ideas about this project?"

Ryou smiled at him.

Three hours passed quickly with the two boys pouring over textbooks and the like. The atmosphere quickly shifted from awkward to friendly the more Yugi and Ryou talked, exchanged ideas, and compiled a research base for their presentation. It was almost dinner by the time they finally bothered to glance at a clock, and Ryou was just packing up his things, putting his books away in his backpack, when something on Yugi's nightstand caught his eye. "Yugi, what is that?" he inquired curiously.

"Hm?" Yugi glanced at the table. "Oh." He walked over to the table where a number of sheets had been stacked. He stacked them neatly and released a puzzled smile as he lifted the first page, showing Ryou a number of strange symbols. "Just some things Yami was writing down yesterday night. Sometimes, he has images pop up in his head – like hieroglyphs! But he doesn't know what they mean, so I asked him to draw them for me." He brushed some dust off the tabletop, then turned to smile at Ryou. "I was going to go to the library tomorrow after school to look them up for him – maybe it's a clue to his past!"

Ryou was silent for a moment. "Those are not hieroglyphs," he said finally. Bakura had come into control, but like his counterpart, he merely stood and stared at the sheet of paper Yugi held in his hands.

Yugi froze, not only because he noticed the switch in spirits, but because of what Bakura had revealed. Eager for more information, he stepped closer to the white-haired man, losing his sense of self-preservation in the face of helping his own Yami.

"Really? What are they?"

Bakura did not seem to even notice that Yugi was addressing him so easily, or that he was moving closer. He continued to stare hard at the paper. "It is demotic." [1]

'_Nuru loves you.'_

A scrap of papyrus, that's all she wrote it on – one for Bakura, and one for _him_, a warm message for them to revisit in her absence when they were forced to be away from her. She gave them a fresh one every time they left; and many times, he had spied the Pharaoh reading the words in the silence of his camp, slowly tracing over the words like they granted him with unknown power.

Yugi paused at the unfamiliar word. "Demotic? What's – hey!"

Bakura's hand suddenly shot out and grabbed the paper from Yugi's gentle grip; he soundly ripped it down the middle, and stared down his nose at the pieces as they fluttered to the floor. Yugi stared at the pieces in obvious shock. Bakura looked up at him, his eyes flashing. Venom flooded his tone. "Don't dredge up the past simply to ogle at it impassively," he growled. "That you forgot her in the first place is unforgivable enough, _Pharaoh_."

With a final glare, Bakura turned and stalked form the room, hands in tight fists at his sides. Yami appeared beside Yugi as the front door slammed shut. They both stared after Bakura for a long moment, before Yami looked down to the ripped pieces of paper on the floor.

"' Her'?"

* * *

_Egypt: 9 Months Ago_

Nuru fixed her shift around her thighs, smoothing down the temporary wrinkles. Egyptian cotton was known for its durability. Malik wished he could offer her some bangles or a necklace to wear with the plain white dress, but if he took those his father would be sure to notice.

Leaning against what was left of an old column, the blonde watched the Egyptian woman seat herself carefully on a fallen pillar that had once stood taller than half the buildings in Cairo. Her legs were folded and she had delicately laid the blue cloth he had brought with him on the patch of faded sandstone in front of her, carefully smoothing out the lines before lifting a small meal from the basket he'd provided; grapes, cheese, goat's milk, and hard-boiled eggs. He watched her carefully pick away at the shell of her first egg with a look of utmost concentration. He almost smiled, but couldn't bring himself to.

He was regretful that he hadn't been spending as much time with her as usual. Rishid had been covering for him for years, but his father was a sharp man, a very strict man, and becoming paranoid in his old age. Paranoid enough to check up on Malik at odd times, making it difficult to sneak away.

"Malik," Nuru waved him over with an eager look on her face. He moved to sit across from her, and she handed him her other egg. "One for Nuru, one for Malik."

"Thank you, Nuru," Malik said.

She concentrated a moment. "You're welcome," she said uncertainly, and them beamed when he smiled at her and nodded. She was looking more real than ever, in the clothes Ishizu had found for her to wear. Malik was eternally thankful to his elder sister, who never asked questions, but merely accepted that he had a secret friend. He could remember even now how Nuru had lovingly smoothed the Egyptian cotton against her cheek, mumbling in her native tongue. Malik was beginning to realise that she did so when she recognized something that was familiar to her in this foreign world.

And this world was foreign to her, Malik reminded himself. He had poured over the immortalization of her on the walls of the Nameless Pharaoh's tomb, read over and over ancient scrolls speaking of her at the side of the king whom his family was sworn to protect. Nuru. Good Nuru.

"Ah," The woman in question finished her egg with a satisfied sigh and looked down at the meal before her, pulling her mass of pin straight hair over one shoulder and absently combing her fingers through it as she observed her options. Malik remembered how he'd been forced to give her a Time Out after she stole his comb away to try it for herself, only to snap of some of the teeth in the process. He watched her look up at him. "Honey?" she asked, her voice hushed with hope.

"You can't drink honey all the time, Nuru," Malik chided, resting his chin in his hand. "You'll get sick. And it's disgusting."

"Honey please and thank you?"

"No. No please and thank you."

Nuru visibly wilted. Her shoulders slumped and she stared down at her lap, unhappily tracing a rough scar on her knee. Malik eyed the movement.

"_Kushan soldier," Nuru explained haltingly, poking unceremoniously at the scar. Her index finger moved from there to a clean line that was on both the back of her left hand, and the palm. "Bandit." She flattened her hand to the ground and mimed a knife stabbing down on the scar. "Bam."_

_One after another, she pointed to each marking in sight, looking almost cheerful to communicate her stories to him. _

"_Snake bite." A cobra, on her ankle. _

"_Knife shot fire." A bayonet through the gut. _

"_Axe." The blade straight between her shoulder blades._

"_Fire stick." A bullet in the thigh. _

"_Big stones." An old hut caving in on her. _

_He could not understand how she'd survived them all. When he asked her, she only blinked at him. _

"_Nuru sleeps for a while," she said simply, and absently traced a line along her hipbone which she had failed to explain. _

Malik shook his head of those thoughts and focused again on his friend. Conceding defeat in her search for honey, Nuru had opted for the grapes. She was mumbling in Ancient Egyptian, to nothing in particular, but she would pause now and then as if something was talking back to her.

"Nuru?" Malik started.

"Ma-lik," Nuru responded, breaking off her "conversation" and drawing out the syllables of his name lightly.

"Who are you talking to?"

Nuru cocked her head slowly. "I am talking to Malik," she said finally, looking slightly confused. Malik did smile this time. Nuru gave him a pleased grin in response. "I like Malik. Nuru likes Malik."

"I like you too, Nuru," Malik answered. He shifted slightly and leant forward to take a grape, only to flinch as he stretch his muscles too far. Taking the grape, he straightened gingerer. When he looked up, Nuru was watching him with those big eyes of hers.

Before he could defend himself, Nuru had planted herself behind him. "Nuru, wait-,"

She didn't heed him, but simply grabbed his shirt and yanked it swiftly up and over his head. Silence followed. Malik stared self-consciously at his knees. He didn't know how he'd expected her to react, but he stiffened anyways, scared that even she wouldn't understand. That she'd recoil in disgust.

He waited for her to do something, say something that would tell him her thoughts. After a long minute of silence, Nuru breathed a sigh. "Hurts," she said absently. It wasn't a question, and she apparently wasn't asking for a reply, because she slid off the pillar and disappeared into the palace.

Sighing himself, Malik pulled his shirt down. He didn't know what to make of it. Had she been disgusted, like so many others? Had she ---

"Ma-_lik_," Nuru appeared again, this time with a bucket and a rag. She dipped it in the pail of water as she walked, before climbing up behind him again and firmly shoving his shirt over his head. He took it off. Within moments, there was a cool, damp rag pressed to his irritated skin. The feeling was sensational. She smoothed her hands, covered with the rag, over every detail of the glyphs carved into his back.

"You are grave keeper," Nuru said after a long time.

_Yes. Of your husband. _He nodded, unable to speak. Nuru continued absently. "Pharaoh order for grave keepers. Nuru was there. Men had been breaking into graves. King's graves." She sounded sad. "Bandits."

There it was. The mention of her past, her time. He felt his heart speed up. "You are very old, aren't you, Nuru?"

Nuru paused. "Yes," she whispered. "Oh, yes."

Her fingers slid over his half-healed, puckered skin. The sun disk. The eye of Horus. So familiar, so strange to see emblazoned on the flesh of a boy three thousand years too late to understand their significance.

When Malik's back had been cleaned to Nuru's satisfaction, she eased back, dropped the rag back into the basin, and resumed eating grapes without another word about it. Malik watched her for a long time, wondering what she had seen, what she had done, and why she was still in this decrepit dead city, of all places…why she hadn't followed her people to Thebes, and later, Cairo.

He came to a decision. "Nuru?" he asked.

She looked up at him, three fingers stuck in her mouth to suck off the grape juices. He leant towards her. His voice was hushed. "Would you like to see the tomb?" 


	5. Book One: Tomb of the Nameless Pharaoh

**Book One: The Tomb of the Nameless Pharaoh**

_It had been many years since Yami had dreamed; but tonight, as his soul rest dormant in the Millenium Puzzle, a vision came to him of a tomb. Without being told, he knew it to be his. _

_He could both feel and hear people entering his sacred resting place. One, a boy. Young, Egyptian. Walking slowly. And behind him -- a woman. _

_He held his breath. _

_A woman._

* * *

_Egypt: 9 Months Ago_

__Malik tread slowly through the underground hallways of the Valley of the Kings, listening intently for any other signs of life. He had not seen his father yet today, either before he left to Memphis or after, and that made the golden-haired Egyptian suspicious. Worried.

He glanced over his shoulder yet again at the girl trailing behind him. Her large eyes flickered everywhere. She was stiff as a board, and had been since he led her from Memphis. It was clear she didn't understand where they were going; twice she had tried to turn back, but Malik calmed her worries and led her gently. He wouldn't lie. His curiosity was strong.

They walked through the dark entrance and Malik watched her closely for any signs of recognition of this place. He could not bring her to the very innermost chamber of the tomb -- but he could walk her through, and see what happened. This was perhaps the last remnant of the world she had once lived in, fully intact and nearly untouched. Did it spring any memories within her?

They came to the first chamber meant to keep out intruders. Malik knew well every corner of these rooms, and he was confident he could get them through with some effort --

Malik had paused upon entering the room, but Nuru, as he watched, simply continued walking, looking around her all the while with an almost helpless expression.

* * *

_I know you. _

_Yami watched her approach. Drank her in, like a man starved. Every feature, every detail, it was all so very familiar, and so alien all at once. He did not know her name, he did not understand how he recognized her. _

_She was scared; he did not want her to be. _

* * *

Malik drew in a terrified breath. "Nuru, wait--!"

As if broken from a trance, Nuru turned to him curiously; but Malik was the one struck dumb. She had clearly walked through the motion sensors meant to spring a trap of poisonous needles, but not a thing had happened. _Impossible. Just yesterday, a man --_

Malik stepped forward, and instantly darts shot at him -- he jumped back with only a second to spare. Nuru hurried back over in concern, but even as she walked just where he had, the trap was not set off. "Malik? Malik?" she knelt next to him.

"Have you been here before, Nuru?" Malik said breathlessly.

"Have I…here…" Nuru looked around them uncertainly. She could not formulate an answer for him, but Malik simply shook his head anyways.

"Stupid question," he murmured to himself. He left Nuru help him up, and froze with fear when she held his arm firmly and walked with him through the room; but with her at his side, the room remained still, silent.

* * *

_She clung to the boy, but it did not upset him. He did not care if she needed the boy at her side to venture through his maze of chambers so long as she did. _

_He wanted her closer. The nearer she was to his final resting place, the clearer his vision became. _

_I will not harm you. Come to me._

* * *

They continued onwards, through the room of the Invisible Tablet, over the maze across the Pit of Shadows, and still, nothing in the ancient rooms moved, not a danger came across them. Nuru continued to keep Malik close to her side, though it was clear that she herself didn't entirely understand why she was doing what she was doing, but what did that matter as long as they both stayed alive?

They came to the Monster Bridge, where Nuru stopped altogether and blinked, looking about with more hesitation than before. Malik was somewhat relieved; he was forbidden to go any further.

Nuru let him go, and drew up to the bridge, then stopped, and stared at the monster carved at her feet.

"Nuru," Malik called uncertainly. "Are you able to go across?"

"Tomb," Nuru mumbled, almost to herself. "This is a tomb." Her bared foot slid forward, traced the frame of the shadow monster's tile. She lifted her head. "I…Nuru should not-," But then her eyes landed on the altar across the bridge.

She fled across it as Malik shouted after her.

The box. The box was gone. The puzzle was gone.

Panic washed over her. Suddenly, she knew in whose tomb she stood.

* * *

_Her hands moved over the altar where his puzzle had long rested with fear on her face. She did not know. Someone worthy had come for his treasure and he had gifted him with his legacy. She did not understand. _

I am not lost to you,_ he wanted to tell her. _

_He reached out, and with imaginary hands, he coaxed her to come nearer. _

* * *

Malik watched with confusion as Nuru fret over the altar, feverish Egyptian spurting from her mouth a mile a minute. What was wrong? "Nuru? What's wrong?" he shouted across the chasm.

Distressed, she turned to him. "Malik -- pharaoh -- box --" her Arabic was broken with pieces of her native tongue.

"Calm down! Nuru, calm down and come back over the bridge." he hadn't predicted running into this problem; he could not go fetch her from the other side, and so he was forced to wait.

Nuru turned to looked at him again, but stopped suddenly as if frozen. She turned and looked back at the wall behind the altar, uncertainty written across her face. But a portion of the wall sunk in before she could move, and slid open to reveal a room within. Nuru's breathing become quick and irregular; it was clear she was to go inside.

She did not want to, oh, she did not want to. She didn't know why, but her chest ached so terribly she thought maybe she really would die, after all, and tears began to collect at the corners of her eyes. But she was a slave to the will of pharaoh, and so she did as he intended her to, and entered. Malik's fearful cries were nothing but white noise to her ears as the stone slid back into place behind her.

She was alone but for the ornate sarcophagus in the centre of the chamber.

She sobbed as despair rang through her small body, feeling like every step towards the sarcophagus would rip her chest open and end her unworthy life and yet did not stop until she fell to her knees next to the coffin and threw her arms across it. She stared down at the painted face of gold and cried harder still, her blunt nails digging into the hard limestone. Nuru looked down to the inscription carved into the sarcophagus, only to find that her pharaoh's name had been crudely scratched out.

The wail that broke from Nuru's throat felt like it might rip her voice box from her entirely as she pressed her brow to the one forever immortalizing him.

"I have failed you," she wailed pulling away from the coffin with the pained cries of a creature enduring torture. Her body crumpled into a heartbroken bow, nose pressed into the stone floor. "I have failed you -- I have failed you!" Nuru crawled away without lifting out of her bow and without turning away until she was against the far wall, surrounded by the many offerings and trinkets that had been laid to rest with her king .

She sunk her fingers into her hair and pulled, wishing, oh Ra, please stop this torture, stop stop stop ---

Nuru's hands skittered across the floor and found purchase on one of the trinkets surrounding her. She gasped for breath.

Nuru could not look upon him with her filthy eyes again.

* * *

_Domino City: 9 Months Ago_

Yami jerked into waking to find himself in possession of Yugi's body and in a cold sweat. He shuddered, unsettled, and learned back against the headboard, trying to catch his breath.

_Yami? _Yugi's voice. _What happened? Why did you take over? Is everything okay?_

He didn't know what was going on for certain, but he wouldn't worry his host with such concerns. Once his breathing had calmed, Yami answered. "Everything is fine. I'm sorry I took control. I was having a bad dream."

_A dream? About what?_

Yami let out another slow breath, but could not shake this alien feeling of trepidation. He tried to think back on what he had dreamed of; but all he met was darkness. Another closed door.

"I don't remember."

* * *

_Egypt: 9 Months Ago_

Malik had given up all pretences when Nuru had disappeared behind the stone door and ran across the bridge, feeling utmost relief when he realized he was still alive only to have fear come back full force as he ran around the altar and pushed at the wall; it didn't budge.

"Nuru!" he shouted, feeling the wall for a seam, a hinge, anything, "Nuru! Can you hear me?"

All he could hear from inside was muffled noises, and what sounded like sobbing. Malik cursed himself for his idiocy. How could this have been a good idea?

His urgency increased when he heard a sharp scream from within. His hands shoved against the door desperately. "Nuru!"

The door gave; it slid in and Malik dashed inside; his eyes first finding the large coffin in the center of the room before they jumped to his left where Nuru crouched against the wall, surrounded by ceremonial items from the long-past funeral. Relieved, he stepped toward her. "Nuru, let's--,"

Amongst the gold at her feet, there was red. Dark red. As he neared and the shadows faded, he saw the point of a blade protruding from her back, just left of her spine. Her hand still sat on the hilt of a dagger, deeply embedded within her belly.

He stopped. More blood pooled over her fingers and to the floor. Her eyes lifted to his, and there was a desperation there, a need that he had never seen before.

"Ma-lik," she said, a small trickle of blood licked from the corner of her mouth. "Let me die." 


	6. Book One: The Lost Ones

_A/N: Sorry it's so short!! don't worry, we're getting close to the good stuff soon. Maybe one or two chapters before Nuru finds herself in Domino City. _

_You'll notice a few changes if you go back through the previous chapters; they've all had "Book One" added to the chapter title. I think of the chapters so far as sort of an extended prologue leading up to "Book Two"; the good stuff, lol. ALSO, I've gone through and tried to add dates to each of the scenes in case I've been confusing you with all these time jumps. Just keep in mind that every time you see Yugi in the gang, it is after Season Three of the anime (the Virtual World Arc) and before Season Four (the Waking the Dragons Arc). I hope this helps?

* * *

_

**Book One: The Lost Ones**

_Egypt: 9 Months Ago_**  
**

"Just hold still," Malik said shakily, his trembling hand circling the bloody hilt of the ceremonial dagger impaled through Nuru's stomach. It was sticky and warm, and Nuru would not release her vice-like grip even though he tried to peel her fingers away. He stopped immediately when he jostled the hilt and the blood flow grew heavier. Nuru sobbed.

Malik, terrified, settled his hands over Nuru's instead. He tried to guide the weapon out of her, but Nuru, continuously spouting Egyptian, resisted weakly. The dagger slid in to the hilt.

"Nuru, stop!" Malik moved as she doubled over so that her head caught on his shoulder. Her shoulders shook and tears wet his tunic. "Nuru, please-," he tried again, and either he had gotten through to her or she was losing strength, because his pull on the blade met little resistance this time.

He drew it out slowly, scared of jostling the blade within her. Leaning against him as she was, he watched the tip of the dagger recede before disappearing into Nuru's body. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat at the morbid scene.

The dagger slid out with a squelch of blood, and Malik flung it away instantly. Nuru immediately crumpled, but she was conscious. He lifted her arms around his neck. "Okay, just -- hold on, we're leaving, okay?" He considered several different ways of picking her up, but in every situation he though of he would be hurting her even more. Left with no options, he carefully stood, pulling her legs around his hips in the process. She whimpered and moaned, and he tried not to think about the warm wetness bleeding through his shirt and onto his skin. "It's okay," he said again, shakily. She lifted her head slightly at his voice, but before her eyes caught his they caught the sarcophagus only a scant few feet away. Her energy was fast leaving her, but she still closed her eyes tightly and cried a little harder. One of her hands limply dragged down from his neck and to her own wound, trying to push her fingers in and speed up the process.

"No," Malik said, stronger, and grabbed her hand, disconcerted, and pulled in firmly back around his neck. He adjusted her carefully. "It's okay. We're going. We're going. I'm sorry, Nuru. I'm so sorry. I thought…"

But he trailed off. As he turned to the exit, he too felt his eyes drawn to the elaborate coffin where a dead king lay. He had never liked what the Pharaoh meant to his family -- it was the thing that forced him to stay in his underground home for nearly all hours of the day, his reprieve being the few times in a month he could sneak out to visit Nuru at Memphis. He had resented the Pharaoh as a symbol, but never a person. Yet now that had changed. He had not known the Nameless Pharaoh in life, but he did know that he'd never seen Nuru in such a state of pain and despair before. Her cries hurt his ears, her blood ran down his arms and stained his clothes all because of one glance at the dead man's tomb.

His violet eyes narrowed at the sarcophagus, before he turned and carried Nuru away.

The seed of resentment he carried towards the Pharaoh, planted during the painful etching of the Pharaoh's scripture on his back, coiled its roots tightly about his heart.

* * *

_Domino City: Present Day_

'_Nuru loves you.'_

Bakura overturned another desk with an angry flick of his hand; unsatisfied with the crash it made against the linoleum, he lifted it by one of its legs and hurled it across the vacant classroom and into the far wall, watching it hit the wall and feeling, if anything, angrier.

'_Nuru loves you.'_

"Shut _up!_" Bakura knocked the revolving globe off the teacher's empty desk and lifted a heavy paperweight only to throw it clear into one of the windows. The glass shattered, and wind burst into the room, rushing against his face. Cold. Bakura approached the broken window and set his hands on the sill, breathing heavily, nails digging against the wood.

'_I love you, Bakura.'_

"Nuru," Bakura panted. "Nuru." He shut his eyes, and could almost see her beside him.

'_Hush now. I'm here.' _She would stroke his hair with her tiny little hands. _'What's the matter?' _

"This isn't real," he muttered in Egyptian. "You are long dead." he sneered at the wood beneath his hands. "I don't even know how you died." But he knew how he would have liked her to die. His imaginary Nuru reflected his thoughts.

'_In my sleep, of course. I was an old woman!' _she would smile and her nose would scrunch up, teasing. _'Wrinkly! Grey hair!'_

He didn't grin, though he would have in another life. His chest burned and his head throbbed, and he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes to wipe away her image. Pathetic. This was pathetic. He was pathetic.

'_Bakura?' _Stop it stop it stop it he told himself, but he couldn't, and he hated it. _'Oh, Bakura.' _he imagined that sad, pained voice he remembered so clearly from their last years together. That was the tone he deserved to hear. _'I love you. Nuru loves you.'_

"Nuru loves me," he murmured to himself.

He lifted his head from his hands and opened his eyes, knowing he would find himself alone but no less angry because of it. Rage washed back into him as he shoved away from the window and thrust the last standing desk violently out of his way.

"It doesn't matter," he seethed to himself, and as if to prove his point, he spoke aloud in Japanese. "She's _dead._"

'_Nuru loved you.'_

* * *

_Egypt: 9 Months Ago_

He didn't hesitate before laying her in his cot despite the blood steadily running down her legs and over his arms, carefully unhooking her red-stained hands from his neck and placing them at her sides. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment. "Nuru?" he called. Her gaze was clouded. Malik rolled a sheet up and pressed it against her stomach, applying pressure to the wound. Nuru seemed to focus on him for a moment, but she shut her eyes and turned away.

The door to Malik's room open and closed behind him. Malik turned and spied his sister standing silently just inside his room, a change of clothes on her arm and a bucket of warm water gripped in her tan hands. She took a breath. "Let me help," she said quietly.

Malik stood as Ishizu neared and let her take his place kneeling by Nuru's side. Nuru didn't stir as Ishizu lifted one limp arm and slowly scrubbed away the dried blood crusting over her hands with a damp cloth. The red stains, like rust, ran up her wrists. It stained her legs and thighs. Her cotton dress was drenched crimson starting at the rip above her belly button where the offensive blade had slid in.

Malik watched it all.

Ishizu studied the woman on Malik's cot with an expression of confusion. "Malik, who is this girl?" she asked as she cleaned. "Is she the one whom you visit so often? What in Ra's name happened to--," Ishizu turned, paused. Her younger brother's eyes were riveted on the arm laid across Ishizu's lap, smeared in newly moistened blood, and the bucket of water at his sister's feet growing steadily more red.

Ishizu's eyes softened. "Maybe you should wait outside, Malik."

Malik didn't realize his expression had hardened into a glare until his sister spoke; he looked up at her and, unable to curb the negative emotions broiling within him, went out the door as she suggested. He lingered outside for a moment, taking a breath to ease his darkened expression, when what should catch his eye but the trail of blood he had left whilst carrying Nuru into his underground home. He immediately busied himself with sweeping over the stained flooring by upturning the sands; his brushes with the broom were jerkier than usual, and his hands shook. Guilt and anger churned furiously in his chest, threatening to choke him as one emotion struggled against the other. It was all there, fresh in his mind's eye. The golden tomb. The jewelled sarcophagus. The look on her face -- Malik's hands choked around the broom handle. Nuru, so soft, and child-like -- but that look in her dark eyes in the Pharaoh's tomb had shown him an entirely different person; one who was scared, and heartbroken. In that moment, she had looked more alert than he had ever seen her. Like she remembered everything in her long, long life in that one instant, and it was more than she could handle. She remembered the tomb. She remembered the Nameless Pharaoh. She remembered that she was supposed to have died thousands of years ago. _'Ma-lik. Let me die.'_

The broom hit the far wall with a clatter. Why had he taken her to the stupid tomb? Why had he thought it would be better if she remembered? He had been wrong -- dead wrong, and he wanted her to forget it all, to go back to the blank slate she usually was, curious, excitable, happy, not -- not _suicidal _--

Malik's feet were moving towards his bedroom door before he could change his mind. He threw open the door, causing his older sister to jump slightly from her place at Nuru's side, bandaged filling her hand as she wrapped Nuru's stomach. Malik saw his sister had searched for and found an old pair of his pants to put on the immortal girl, her ruined dress bunched around her ribcage so the wounded area was clear.

Malik's expression didn't soften. He walked into the room. "I'll do it."

Ishizu was uncertain. "Malik, I don't--,"

"Close the door when you leave." It was a sharp dismissal, and Malik couldn't remember ever speaking to his sister like that before, but he didn't care. He was angry, so angry, at -- at everything, and he didn't care anymore. Ishizu's expression reflected the hurt she felt at his words, but nonetheless she did as he bid her, and the door closed with a soft 'click' as she disappeared.

He wasn't sure what was wrong with him, and in this moment, he didn't care. Malik grasped the ends of the bandages wrapped about Nuru's torso and yanked them tight, causing the girl to jerk and her head to snap towards him. There was a strange glaze to those brown eyes as they met his violet ones. "Ba…Bakura…?" There was such pain in her eyes, such sadness, such loss -- and then, she was crying. "Bakura?" Her hands touched his face, but her eyes were still foggy. "Bakura?" Her voice broke.

Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't this. The fury was displaced with confusion. Her fingers slid across his cheeks to hold his face in her hands; they trembled. She sat up suddenly, gasping; the bandages stained red, but Nuru kept her eyes on his, her fingers tracing his fingers, trying to compute something he didn't understand. Her eyes were wide, but distant, so distant. Malik caught her wrists. "Nuru!" he warned, once it became clear she was shuddering from pain. "Nuru…it's Malik. Malik."

Nuru stilled. "Malik…" she whispered it as though it were foreign to her. "Malik." Her eyes fluttered, met his again, and he knew she was looking at him clearly for the first time since he'd found her in the tomb. He laid her back down slowly; her eyes studied his face, looking just as lost as before, though for different reasons. "You are Malik," she whispered shakily. "Bakura…"

"Nuru. Who is Bakura?"

"He…h-he is…" Her large eyes filled with tears; knees pulled up loosely toward her chest. Her hands covered her face, muffling her sobs and shielding her eyes. "He is dead…" He had never head someone sob the way she was now; like her whole body might break apart with the force of her sobs. "All of them are…dead."

He didn't know what to do in the face of her agony. He swallowed, pulled her hands from her face, but her eyes were tightly closed. "I'm still here. Malik is here."

Her brown orbs blinked open, wet and shining with more tears; her hands closed around her cold bare arms, but in the wake of her mourning, her searched for and found his eyes. "Malik is here," she agreed in a whisper. But her tone was slow and shameful, and Malik knew what she was thinking.

_I will outlive you, like all the rest._

_

* * *

TBC.  
_


End file.
